


Anticipation

by AlleiraDayne



Series: Bang Your Head (Metal Health) [31]
Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Adorable Alistair, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Modern: No Powers, Awkward Cullen, Awkward Flirting, Cute Alistair, Eventual Smut, F/F, F/M, Flirting, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Modern Era, POV Alistair, Romantic Fluff, Sexy Alistair (Dragon Age)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-12
Updated: 2017-11-12
Packaged: 2019-02-01 12:18:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,011
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12704850
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlleiraDayne/pseuds/AlleiraDayne
Summary: Alistair, Amodisia, Cullen, and Amallia are in Denerim on a date.





	Anticipation

[ ](https://www.flickr.com/photos/138010791@N02/38982628545/in/album-72157662981371817/)

Green.

Truth be told, Alistair had never noticed it before, but _this_ close to Cullen, the tiny flecks of green in his amber eyes shined like gems hidden in sand.

“What are you staring at?”

Alistair shook his head, a sting in his cheeks spreading to his neck. “You,” he retorted. “You’ve got a… thing. Right here.” He pointed to the right corner of his mouth and, with haste, Cullen snatched his napkin and wiped his lips clean.

“Did I get it?”

“I could have gotten it for you,” he grumbled with a shrug.

That earned him a stern glare, and if Alistair had a say, he might guess Cullen annoyed with him. “I don’t think I want to know how.”

Across the table, Amallia’s obnoxious laugher filled his ears before she said, “Like how I do.”

Maker, bless her heart, but Amallia tried. She had tried with relentless will every moment since her birthday to clue Cullen in, but to no avail. Beside her sat his wife, eyes narrowed at she stared at Cullen, studying him as if to suggest she did not believe the act.

“Please,” Cullen scoffed. “That’s… that would be ridiculous.”

“I don’t know,” Alistair began, “doesn’t sound so bad. Might be fun.”

Cullen snorted a dismissive sound as he returned to his dinner, filling his mouth and unable to speak. A wordless exchange passed between Amallia and Amodisia, and they slid from the booth without warning. His wife kissed him, a gentle touch of her lips to his cheeks as Amallia spoke.

“We’re going up to the bar, get another round of drinks.”

Cullen glared at the three of them, first Amallia, then Amodisia, and last, himself. A wave of gooseflesh   crept up Alistair’s spine, raising the fine hairs on the back of his neck. After an eternity, he turned back to the women and spoke.

“Why?”

Amallia snorted her laughter through pursed lips and Amodisia nudged her into silence with a sharp elbow. “Because we want to,” she retorted as she grabbed Amallia by the hand and dragged her to the bar. “Be back in a bit.”

“Don’t forget about us,” Alistair called with a laugh, then turned back to find Cullen glowering at him again. “What?”

“You put them up to this.”

“Me?!” Alistair gasped in mocking. “I would never stoop to something so low. I’d go lower. _Much_ lower.”

He had to know. The endless flirting and smirks and caught stares could mean little else. Or at least, Alistair hoped as much. And when Cullen’s familiar grin returned, his heart skipped a beat.

“Like telling my girlfriend the size of my dick?”

That familiar sting in his cheeks returned, a shiver coursing along his spine as he winced. “Maybe.”

“At least you wear embarrassment well,” Cullen commented.

“Not quite like you do,” Alistair replied. “All red and flustered and aroused.”

Another derisive snort served as Cullen’s response, and so, Alistair changed the subject. “When will you be back next?”

“Spring, probably March,” Cullen stated. “Meeting some new clients.”

So long. Two months, at least. “Will I get to see you?”

“I’m not sure,” he started with a frown. “I'll be quite busy.”

Alistair shrugged despite his sinking heart and pursed lips. And for a second, the desire, the absolute need to confess his love to this man, his friend and confidant, struck him with such ferocity, his hand moved of its own accord.

Cullen flinched beneath his touch at his knee, hidden beneath the table, but thank the Maker for his awkward laughter. For once, he didn’t pull away, didn’t flee at the slightest hint of flirting, didn’t shy from his affection.

“I'll miss you.”

Alistair refused to believe his ears, the baritone too warm and inviting, enticing even, for their usual conversation. “You'll what?”

Cullen’s own massive hand covered his, hot as a brand, and Alistair cursed under his breath.

“I'll miss you,” he repeated. “I’ll try to stop by if I get the time.”

Damn them all, if they wanted to stare, let them. The space between their noses narrowed, nearing one another in a slow drifting of bodies as Alistair slid his hand along Cullen’s thigh. Maker, but they were close, so close, noses brushing and breath so hot on their lips, Alistair whimpered.

“Were back!”

“Son of a bitch.” Cullen's curse sent Alistair flailing back as if struck, his own string off profanity muttered under his breath.

“Looks like you both could use a drink.” Amodisia plunked two large tumblers full of reddish brown liquor onto the table before them, and without hesitation, Alistair snatched his for a long pull.

“Do I really do that to you?”

He spluttered his drink, caught unawares by Cullen's sudden flirting. “Yes.”

“What did you do to him?” Amallia asked with a coy quirk of her lips. “He's all flustered.”

Cullen sipped from his glass, his own smirk mirroring hers. “Nothing. We just talked.”

Amallia giggled with a scrunch of her nose. “I'm sorry, Ali,” she began, “he doesn't realize what his voice can do to people.”

His glass thumped to the table, half drained and warming his belly. “No, he doesn't.”

Amodisia cackled with laughter, holding her stomach as Cullen's mortified blush deepened to his neck. Infectious, Amallia caught her fit of giggles and she, too, laughed until she cried.

“My voice?”

Alistair turned to Cullen, his questioning brow and sardonic smile ever endearing. But the longer he stared, the faster his heart beat, thumping against his ribs as if to escape. What kept him at bay? What sent him running for the hills at the faintest sign of interest? No point in backing down now.

“You’ll have to sing for me some time.”

Cullen returned his gaze, half-lidded and crooked smile igniting a fire in his belly that Alistair stamped down to embers. And then Cullen spoke, baritone whispering in his ear.

“I would love to sing for you.”

“You would?” Alistair asked.

And then he gasped, Cullen’s lips on his ear and his hand slipping along his thigh.

“ _Only_ you.”


End file.
